


Lines

by childhoodlight



Category: The X-Files RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 09:44:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4741679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/childhoodlight/pseuds/childhoodlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He will never know where this ability of his comes from, this ability to answer the questions she hasn't even asked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lines

They're all eating lunch at a large table, crew members and actors, silenced by exhaustion and hunger.

She pinches his arm.

"Ow!" he slaps her hand away, frowning. "What the fuck, Gill?" he says, but she's not even looking at him.

He can feel all eyes on them.

"Could you pass me the salt?" she says calmly. There are bags underneath her eyes, and she's reading her script and eating at the same time, struggling as her eyes skim the pages. She's exhausted.

He reaches for the salt and hands it to her.

"You could've just asked," he mutters.

She doesn't answer, just keeps on reading and eating.

xxxx

He finds her in her trailer 12 hours later, at 2 am, just having wrapped up the long cold day of shooting scenes.

She's been crying.

"What the fuck is the matter with you?" he says, angrily, closing the door. She's lying on her small couch, eyes closed, wrapped in a quilt, cheeks streaked with tears.

"Just go away, David." Her tone is poisonous.

"Don't you dare believe you're the only one struggling, Gill, don't you fucking dare."

"I don't, okay? Just leave me alone."

"But you do. That's the thing," he says, and she opens her eyes, big blue orbs surprised, face suddenly very alert.

"You walk around this place crying and bitching and fucking pinching me at lunch, thinking you're the only one only getting 5 hours of sleep each night," he can feel himself blowing up, feel all the anger and exhaustion and fear and need and sadness and everything; he's standing in her trailer yelling at her and for the first time in weeks he manages to feel it all inside his bones, "you think you're the only one missing home? The only one who hasn't seen their family in months? Who doesn't even have time to go and get a proper fucking haircut? Do you know the last time i slept in, Gill? I don't even know!"

Her eyes are open and too blue. She stares at him for what feels like eons of time before she slowly stands up and retrieves her cell phone from the small counter on the other side of the trailer. She settles back on the couch, while he keeps standing before her, anger slowly turning into a frown. What is she doing?

She taps the buttons on her phone and mutters: "This was in my voicemail this morning."

She holds the phone between them and turns on the speaker. 

It's the sound of her three year old daughter, crying and breathing loudly into the phone.

"Mommy? Moooommyyyyy. I hurt mwa fwoot. Why aren't you here! Miss you," her daughter yells into the phone, "miss you. Miss you. MISS YOU!" 

Gillian's eyes fill with tears once again as she closes the phone. 

"I miss her, David," she whispers. "I detest every second of being away from her." Her voice fades into nothing as the tears fall. 

He stands there in her trailer at two in the morning, both of them surrounded by darkness and winter. He doesn't know what to say, still feels the anger in his body, clouding his mind, but he's always angry with her, always, it's become a permanent part of his body to always feel frustration when looking at her and thinking of her. In the back of his mind, pushed away to never be seen by anyone other than himself, are other things that he feels when looking at her. But the only one even getting to see a glimpse of those feelings is him. Sometimes they flash in his eyes and she sees it. But she doesn't understand what it means. Only sees the flicker of a change, the flash of something else.

"Just go away, David," she says again as she makes herself comfortable on the couch. She closes her eyes as the tears keep falling. 

He exits the trailer and feels the cold wind soothe his burning skin. He stands outside her trailer for two minutes, intending to get out of there, back to his Vancouver home and bed and sleep but... he doesn't. With her, he never does what he initially intended to do. He turns around, opens the door and steps inside. Her eyes open in surprise but he doesn't stop to react, simply approaches her.

"Sit up."

She starts moving without thinking, slowly moving to a sitting position whilst hesitantly saying, "what are you--?"

"Scoot over," he commands and settles onto the couch, pulling her towards him. Two long seconds of her hesitating, and then she is crawling towards him, small body settling on top of his tall and warm frame. He wraps his arms around her.

"I'm sorry, Gill," he mutters. He doesn't know what else to say, only knows that he has no fucking idea what she's going through and what kind of crazy life she leads. As she rests her head against his chest and tangles her legs with his in order to fit on the couch, his mind fleetingly remembers her husband and that shouldn't he be sharing this with her? Where the fuck is he? 

Lines, blurred lines. 

They're like two magnets with powers so strong they destroy everything in their way. It shouldn't be like this, she is one pole and he is the other, and they're not supposed to do things like this, but it doesn't matter, because they're drawn to each other. Despite anger and exhaustion and fear and frustration, when he feels her skin on his, he always gives in. 

He buries his face in her hair, letting her scent overwhelm his senses. 

"I miss her," she keeps whispering while clutching his t-shirt, and his hands wander to her back, softly stroking it.

"I know," is all he says, and his voice is hoarse and tired and so very, very intimate.

He knows he shouldn't, knows it's another line being crossed, but his hands slip under her t-shirt. He caresses the bare skin of her back, and she only clings to him harder.

This is a world only the two of them have access to. This is a world in which her skin is his and her tears are his to soothe. This is a world where they can be just as they are. Crying and yelling and hating and touching and soothing and helping. 

He feels himself calm down even more, feels sleep slowly seeping inside his body.

His fingers walk upon her skin exploring its softness. When they wander up along her ribs she squeals, chuckling a bit. "You're tickling me."

He smiles, "sorry," he whispers, as one of his hands wanders to her back and the other settles in her hair.

"You can do this. You'll make it." He will never know where this ability of his comes from, his ability to answer the questions she hasn't even asked.

"You sure?"

"Yes."

Her head lifts from his chest so that they're facing each other, noses inches apart. Another line crossed, blurred, redrawn, forgotten. He kisses her full on the lips and tastes the salt on them. When they break apart, she smiles, sadly.

"Why can't you always be like this?" she chuckles and puts her thumb on his lower lip, eyes tracing the contour of it. 

He doesn't answer. They both know these moments between them seldom appear. Most days they argue and they fight and they laugh but they seldom reach this kind of tranquility and understanding. He seldom gives her this kind of comfort. She places her lips on his, lazily tasting them. There's no hurry. It's dark and it's cold and this is what she'll think of when remembering how she got through these years. He'll think of this when he misses her. She puts her head back on his chest and he can feel his own hands settle underneath her t-shirt, warming the skin on her back.

"When I'm back to being the David that you hate," he starts, voice a low murmur into her hair, "please don't forget that I can be like this as well."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... I don't know. I just... Sometimes I forget that I can be like this. I forget and then you pinch me and I hate you and the world and everything around me and... I need... I need you to... on the days when I'm a dick... please remember that I have good sides too." 

She's bleeding.

He's pleading.

And what separates them is simply lines drawn in the sand, being washed away by the soft waves of the sea.


End file.
